


the world wasnt good enough

by jasondean



Series: a world we never asked for [2]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, Suicide, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7395220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasondean/pseuds/jasondean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>melchior was so obsessed with the idea of growing up and being something more that he never realized how far moritz was left behind until he was gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the world wasnt good enough

they asked him to say something at the funeral. _because he was your best friend,_ they said aloud. _because no one else wants to,_ they said with their tight smiles and expectant gazes.

melchior stands now in the church, for once in his life not quite wanting all of the eyes in the room on him. he doesnt want to think about those eyes, because when he does, he thinks about the people they belong to, and he does not want to let his thoughts stick on how every single one of them has blood on their hands. they put the gun to his temple and they didnt even look away before pulling the trigger. 

there is silence, like everyone in the room is holding their breath. there isnt any tapping or whispers or any sort of sound that can and should be generated by the party of thirty-something guests, just silence. 

he slips his hands into his pockets after being unable to resist the itch of fidgeting with the sleeve of his freshly pressed dress shirt, swallowing hard. why did they ask him to do this? why did they ask anyone to speak at all? isnt a closed casket casually sitting in the house of god with the photograph of a boy who used to be here every sunday enough of a voice? 

he swallows again. this is the part where they should be crying, but there isnt a wet eye to be seen. no one is crying.

_my best friend is dead and no one is crying. my best friend shot himself and we found him dead and cold and alone and bloody and no one cares. no one cares. no one cares._

melchiors empty gaze snaps to herr stiefel. he is composed, his expression calm, if not the slightest bit irritated with melchiors hesitation. 

he heard him talking just a bit before with the other adults, mingling outside as they waited in the slush with their heavy coats for the doors to open at last. he said something about how embarrassing the whole ordeal was. how unbearable the shame he and his family was going through was. how selfish his son was, and at least they had the firstborn son working in france with the greatest minds of the century to create incredible things. at least they have him while they deal with the consequences of the black sheep taking his life because of how  _they_ treated him.

_he was fourteen. fourteen. dead in the snow at fourteen. why are they treating us like men? were children. they chide him for being immature but he didnt even mature enough for that to mean anything. we were supposed to grow up together and work together and wed together and raise families side-by-side in neighboring houses in a generic german town ten miles from here and no one even seems to care about that. why are they so focused on who we was? why cant they see the person he never got the chance to be?_

his throat is tight and every time he swallows it feels like fire is crawling up and down his throat and making its way to his chest. for some reason, its all now just becoming overwhelming. like the past week didnt even happen, and all of melchiors forced attempts at grieving were just a show for his parents and the rest of the world. it only feels real now, and he never even saw the body.

his first thought was that the casket couldnt be open. hed ruined his pretty face.

now, among jumbled thoughts, melchior is struck with the realization hell never see that pretty face again.

_hes not here. he wont ever be here again. ill never be able to touch him or hear him or kiss him again. no ones fighting it. its like they already accepted it long before he even died._

_in five years, no one will even remember the name moritz stiefel. the handful of people that will, theyll be sad for a second and move on with their lives. fuck that. he deserves more than silence. he deserves more than being just another dead kid. he deserves more than just being another uncomfortable memory people push under the rug._

the kids were more forgiving than the adults, by far. they sat on the stone pavement, making small talk about their own time spent with moritz when he was alive. like everything, it dwindled out and they all sat quietly, scraping at ice in the cracks of the walkway or humming a song to themselves. "the fucker shouldve waited a month. then we probably wouldnt have had to take the finals." hanschens voice was light and joking but the way he said it -- the way everyone mumbled their agreement -- showed some sort of bitter truth of a thought that set melchior on edge. 

he wondered if he would be met with this much apathy when he died.

_i care. at least i care, even if im the only one, i do care, moritz. i care so much. im sorry and i dont even know why im sorry. im sorry i didnt love you harder but god i did the best i could. i loved you more than anything. i still do._

"melchior, dont you have any words for us?" the pastor suggests gently.

he nods, and the pastor sits back again, looking relieved.

_moritz was wronged by the world and i know he wont ever be able to forgive us for that, but i hope he knows well try harder. and if you dont, i will. ill make sure he didnt die for the same shit to happen to some other kid. and dont think this wont ever happen again. he wont kill himself like moritz, but you know hes out there, and hes suffering in silence and he always will. youre all cowards, you say you care but you cant stand to stick up for anyone or get involved with anyones problems. and thats what kills. he killed himself, but youre all tricking yourselves into thinking you didnt egg him on. its inappropriate to be relieved, so none of you will say you are, but i know you are. i know you are, and moritz does too. you lost someone the world could have loved._

_dont you have any words for us? oh, yeah, i do. two, to be exact._

"fuck you."

 

**Author's Note:**

> smash that motherfuckin like button if you too will never stop crying over moritzs death even like seven years later


End file.
